


Training Day

by ChimaeraKitten



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Robin (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, No editing we die like mne, Training, description of temporary character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 08:33:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18442880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChimaeraKitten/pseuds/ChimaeraKitten
Summary: The only contribution for Dick and Dami Week 2019 I finished. About Damian's training and his size disadvantage.





	Training Day

Damian envied his father's size. When Batman hit someone, they went down hard and they stayed down. Damian, though—for all of his formidable training, all his years of fighting for his life, and all the blood on his hands—Damian still must fight as a child. Todd once jokingly mentioned "death by a thousand scratches" and truly it did feel as if Damian must strike his opponent a thousand times before they fell. It was maddening. He knew it was this which had his father shaking his head when Damian tried to accompany him on his most dangerous missions. It was this which made it so difficult to escape when Todd pinned him to the carpet in a silly fight over the TV remote. It was this which still gave Drake the advantage over him.

It was difficult, sometimes, to not feel looked down on when everyone literally looked down on him.

Moreso than ever now, while Damian lay flat on his back on the training mats, feeling Richard's eyes on him.

"That was good, but you're still trying to come at me with brute force. You have to use my momentum against me, remember?"

Damian remembered. It was only the most common phrase he heard from Father, from Cain, from Todd and Drake and Brown.

"Use your opponent's weight against them."

"Let them defeat themselves."

"Nuh-uh. Don't try top weather a kick like that, move with it."

"You need to move like—"

"Think about it like this—"

Redirect.

_ You're weak. You must be stronger than this to survive. _

Damian shook his mother's words out of his head. They weren't—

"Damian? You okay kiddo?"

Damian looked up at Richard. He rolled over and climbed to his feet. He dusted the chalk off his clothes with his hands. "I am fine," he said. He bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut.

_ Weakling _ —

_ I am not weak. _

_ How long did you last? Against a stronger opponent A larger one? A better one? _

The feeling of having his entire chest torn out, like someone had taken a hole punch to his sternum, stealing the breath from his lungs, the warmth from his veins, the steady beat of a heart.

Redirect.

"Damian?"

"I am fine."

Damian realized he was massaging a hand over his sternum. He dropped it to his side and clenched it into a fist. "I am ready for another round."

Richard frowned. "Are you sure? you stayed down a long time."

"Merely catching my breath."

A skeptical squint. "Sure."

They took their places, 'sizing each other up' as the saying went.

"You know," Ricard said casually, "every time we spar, you seem to lose the first bout for the same reason."

"Damian closed with a kick, but had to jump backwards out of Grayson's range when it was blocked. "Oh?"

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say every time you're testing to see if you're tall enough for brute force yet."

Redirect.

"I do not."

Richard went for a strike, and Damian twisted away just in time.

"There's nothing wrong with being a small fighter, you know," Richard said. He was slightly out of breath. "It just means you have to use different moves, compensate in other ways."

"I would prefer—" Damian threw a punch which Richard ducked. "—not to have to base my fighting around _compensating_."

_ Too weak— _

"It's not about weakness."

Damian was so startled by Richard seemingly responding to his inner thoughts that the kick aimed at his chest caught him by surprise. He went down, slamming his head into the mat.

"It's not, really." Richard said, offering Damian a hand up. "If it was, I'd have grown out of it. But often it's the most efficient way to fight."

Damian looked away.

Redirect.

"Father does not need to take the care I must."

"Damian."

"And I am constantly slowed down by my size. Underestimated because of my appearance."

"Believe me, underestimated is one of the best things you can be. Do you know how much harder things got for me, when the Bludhaven gangs started hiring hero-hunters for me, instead of the typical security?"

Damian squeezed his eyes shut. He still had not taken the offered hand. He heard the sounds of Richard squatting down beside him.

"Hey, look at me."

Damian didn't.

Richard sighed. "You'll get bigger, you know. Both your parents are tall. And I know you understand the benefits of fighting this way."

Damian felt a hand in his hair.

"But that's not the real problem, is it?" Richard continued, "there's something else."

Damian opened his eyes and stared resolutely at the cave ceiling.

"I barely gave him a fight. I couldn't—I couldn't do anything. I was helpless."

"Oh, kiddo."

There were arms around him, pulling him up. A kiss was pressed into his hair.

"I'm so sorry." Richard turned Damian around to face him and pulled him into a tight hug. "I'm so, so sorry."

"When I had powers—" Damian sobbed. "—I thought I'd never have to be scared like that again. But now—"

Richard rubbed circles into his back. "I know. I know, kiddo."

"I just want to be _stronger_. Just once. I don't want there to be reason to be afraid." Damian's teases were already leaving a wet spot on Richard's shirt.

Damian head Richard take a deep breath.

"Can I tell you a secret?"

Damian nodded, clutching at Richard with both hands.

"I'm always afraid."

Damian sucked in a startled breath.

"It's true, I swear. See, the moment you stop being afraid of your opponents—the moment you're so much better than that that it stops being life or death for you—is the moment you have to start being afraid _for_ them. It's so easy to hurt someone accidentally, and it's even easier to hurt someone when they can't hope to match you."

Richard pushed Damian away slightly and took his face in his hands. "Do you understand? That's why I fight a lot like you do, by choice. Bruce is always, always afraid that one of his oh-so-efficient hits will do something permanent to someone. The way we do it isn't _safe_ , but it's safer. You're prioritizing yourself and your adversary's life at the same time. Wanting to get stronger just to hit harder—that can be dangerous."

Damian heard the subtle admonishment in the words. _That's how the league of assassins thinks._

"But I—I still can't—" _I still see that sword every time I'm hit in the chest. I still feel my own blood on my hands every time I fall._

"I think we might be done with sparring for today."

"No! I can—"

Richard shook his head. "I know you can. But it's also okay to not want to. Just like it's okay to be afraid," he said pointedly. "You went through something awful, Damian. That sort of thing sticks with you. Just don't try to change yourself over it."

Damian nodded, unable to speak.

"Besides, I like the size you are now. You still have some kid in you. I'm glad I didn't miss it."

For a moment, there was something sad in Richard's eyes, and Damian remembered those months when his brother was lost.

"I'm—I am glad too."

Richard smiled and pressed a kiss to Damian's sweaty forehead.

 


End file.
